Surrounded by Silence

I stood in silence as I watched the snow fall. It’s been snowing intermittently for three days now, though that’s somewhat normal for northern winters. I held an ax in one hand, and in front of me was a small pile of timber that needed to be chopped into manageable pieces. The wood rested on a larger stump, and snow softly accumulated on its surface as I took a small break. Despite the harsh weather I was born and raised in these conditions, and to me it was nothing but a passing nuisance.

I lived alone. A long time ago, my parents decided they had enough with civilization and ventured far into the forest to be with each other. Both my mother and father were good with building and woodworking, and with the tools and materials they bought along with them, they were able to successfully build a small cottage to live in. Sometime later my mother became pregnant with me, and decided that she could raise me better than society ever could. She and my father taught me everything I know. My mother taught me about cooking and harvesting, using and appreciating the gifts of the forest. My father taught me about carpentry, he and I would create figures and tools from trees he’d fallen.

Eventually, when I was still a teenager, my mother came down with a sickness. My father begged to take her somewhere called a “hospital”, but my mother refused. She said she swore to never go back a long time ago, and that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much it hurt. A few days later, she breathed her last. My father and I buried her close by our house, and I planted a small evergreen sapling there in memory of her.

My father was never the same after that. He’d spend large swaths of the day staring blankly ahead. Even when he was working he’d have a strange glazed-over look in his eyes. He’d still spend time with me, helping run the house and teach me things. I tried to make him happy, but it was no use. One day, he clutched his chest and fell over on the floor. I rushed to his side and for a brief second, I thought I saw a light in his eyes. I never bothered planting a tree for him.

Since then, I’ve had nowhere to go. So I take care of my house. I hunt, I pick berries, and I wonder how much longer I have to wait until I die.

A cold winter wind passes through the forest, caressing my cheek with its icy touch. The trees stand tall against the wind, and the snow keeps falling down. In the crushing silence, even the wind itself seems to be still. Slowly, my eyes focus again on the wood in front of me. I raised the ax, and split the log. The snow muffled the blow, not a sound could be heard.

I looked up at the sky. The sun hung low, barely visible through the dense grey cloud cover. It was going to be dark soon. I’d have to hurry up.

So I continued, splitting the logs, with not a single thought in my mind. The snow kept falling, the wind kept blowing, and I kept working. Dimly, I wondered if this is all that life is. Splitting the logs until I fall over like my father.

Suddenly, I saw her. A lone fox, with fur whiter than the snow that fell around her. Her warm brown eyes met mine, and for a second I felt something in my chest. A brief feeling of warmth, contrasting the cold that surrounded me. The fox turned around, and walked eastward. I felt a strange desire to follow it. Resting my ax near the firewood I cut, I started walking.

Following the fox was very hard in the snow. Its paws didn’t make a sound, and it blended seamlessly into the surrounding environment. The sky darkened, due to both the sun setting and the snow intensifying. Winter was truly here: it surrounded me on all sides. I could feel its icy tendrils wrapping around my face and the little skin exposed on my body. I knew hypothermia was a thing, and I contemplated if I was dooming myself to an icy death alone in the forest.

The fox passed behind a tree and vanished. I wasn’t worried about that though, because I saw something directly in front of me. It was a small bundle of blankets quietly resting under an oak. I walked to it, curious to see what lay in front of me. I picked it up, and as I looked at it, a face looked back at me. It was the face of a child, innocent and pure as the snow. It appeared to be sleeping. I put my hand on its chest, making sure it was still alive. I could barely feel it, but its heart was beating. It was weak as a baby bird, but it was certainly there, fighting against the cold.

I stood in silence, looking about me. There were no footprints nearby, no signs of any life. The forest stood, cold and indifferent. Together we were truly alone.

I cursed under my breath. I was in no way prepared to take care of a child. I had a hard enough time taking care of myself. For a second, a brief moment, I considered abandoning the child, leaving it to the winter wolves that prowled at nighttime. Then I sighed. I couldn’t live with that on my conscience. For better or for worse, the child is going to be in my care.

I wrapped the blankets back around it and held it close to my chest, hoping it would be enough to warm it as we made the journey back to the cottage. Night had nearly fallen, and the snow was finally starting to decline. We walked in silence, to my surprise the child remained asleep. It was as quiet as the woods surrounding us. In the distance I could hear the howls of wolves. I held the child closer and walked faster, finding my way through the forest almost through pure intuition.

Eventually, in the darkness, I saw my cottage. With one arm I held the child, and with the other, I grabbed the firewood I split. The rest could be saved for later. Heading inside, I swept aside the various junk that had accumulated on the main table and set the baby down. Grabbing some flint and steel, I ignited a small fire in the fireplace. Warmth emanated forth, filling the small area with light and dispelling winter’s cold.

I headed back to the child to find its eyes open looking at me. They were a dazzling blue, like a frozen-over lake. Once again I was filled with a sense of doubt. Could I really give a child like this the life they deserve? I shook myself lightly. I would have to try my best. I opened my mouth and spoke for the first time in years. “You…you hungry?”

The child babbled something incoherent. I took it as a “yes” and headed over to the kitchen area. I had a pretty good amount of roots, nettles, and other wild vegetables I was able to harvest in the autumn. I threw the ingredients together with some water in the pot my mother had and set it over the fireplace to cook. Hopefully it would be nutritious enough for the child.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do at that point. I tried to remember my mother’s brief instructions for if I were to ever have a child of my own. To calm it down, I was supposed to hold it in the crook of my arm and rock it. I picked the child up and tried holding it like she described. It looked just as confused as I was, but didn’t seem to mind. Still holding it, I went to the window and looked out into the forest.

The fireplace was just bright enough to illuminate a small area surrounding the cottage. The snow shimmered in the light, and the flurries tumbling down only added to the winter ambience. Above my mother’s grave the evergreen tree I planted stood with its branches covered with snow. The fox sat underneath the tree. It was looking straight at me. It may have been a trick of the light, but it looked to me as though it was smiling. Quietly, I thanked her as I felt the child stir in my arms. Somehow, she gave me a reason to live again, a reason to keep going. I was no longer wondering how long I would have to keep living, now I was planning how to take care of the child. How to carve out the best life possible for it.

With a swish of her tail, the fox disappeared into the night. Struck with inspiration, I looked deep in my child’s eyes. “I’m going to name you Winter”.